Father and Son
by susies-fandom-wonders
Summary: Requested on Tumblr by @fincherly. What if Layton watched Des die in his presence.


@fincherly said: In contrast to the last fic that i literally cried over can i have a des dying in Layton's presence because i love pain?

Do you really want this?

Hahah you just love your pain don't ya

Well lol that's what I'm here for ( I am 'the murderer of your soul', after all ;) )

UM so warning, this contains some blood -- we'll see when we get there; you have been warned

Father and Son

When Desmond (now Descole) had stepped into the crumbling Azran ruins, Layton thought he had died. He truly had, no matter how many logical explanations he could come up with. He just couldn't wrap his head around someone still being alive after walking into a collapsing stone sanctuary. His final goodbye had been warm, a genuine smile crossing the masked man's face as he looked back at Layton. If he would have been able to see the man's eyes, he was almost certain they'd be crinkled around the edges, the way they do when someone smiles. He had seen those smiling lines on Des's face; they had faded slightly, but they were there nonetheless. And when the red-eyed man had given genuine smiles during the trip, they would crease in that same exact spot.

Layton had never forgotten that trip with the emissary of the Azran. He certainly couldn't forget that Desmond Sycamore, one of the world's most famous archaeologists, was his brother, as well as his nemesis for well over three years.

Luke had taken the trip around the world much worse than Layton did. While the professor rarely dreamed, the boy would be plagued with nightmare after nightmare, which usually resulted in Luke climbing into bed with the professor, whimpering.

The child had always asked about news on Desmond. There had been no news on the man since the Azran sanctuary crumbled, Layton would tell him that, just like every other time. Luke had grown fond of Desmond during the few months around the world, and Layton would say with complete confidence that Luke regarded the red-eyed man as a father. From the way he would ask Desmond for help with a puzzle (after he asked Layton, of course), to the way he would go to him after a nightmare… it was a truly safe bet.

He thought nothing of it when the door to his home knocked; he sent Luke to answer it as he took the teapot off the stove, setting it on the kitchen table. He was reaching for cups when Luke came barreling into the kitchen again, his eyes wide. Layton couldn't put a guess on why Luke looked so utterly bewildered, but he understood once the guests rounded the corner.

He let out a uncharacteristic gasp, the teacup falling from his hands and onto the floor. The shatter was unheard as Layton took in the appearances of his unexpected friends.

Raymond looked at Layton with a sad, tired expression, a frown on the old man's face. He cradeled the limp body of Desmond Sycamore in his hands, his normally curly hair ratted and clumped with dried blood. His clothes were ripped and torn, the white undershirt splattered with dark red. Fresh blood was dripping down a pale hand and onto the floor.

Layton wasted no time, motioning for Raymond to follow him as they moved to the living room. He called over his shoulder to Luke, telling him to call the police. Luke was already on it, and he could hear the dials on his phone being turned.

"What happened, Raymond?" He asked the now shaking man as he sat Desmond on the couch, kneeling next to the professor.

"I…." The butler's voice was shaky, which truly set off Layton more than anything else. He had never heard Raymond's voice like this, the older man so composed, so calm. The professor set a hand on the man's shoulder. Raymond took a shaky breath, seemingly trying to compose himself.

"I'm not exactly sure myself….," Raymond started. "He's... been a bit more distant after what happened with Mistress Aurora. I figured he'd be gone a bit more than usual." The old man shook his head. "It had been more than several hours when I went looking for him." Layton noticed the tear streaking down Raymond's cheek, and he bit his lip, not really knowing what to do. "I found him -- well, he found me. He was in a lot of pain…. He collapsed as soon as he saw me, so I haven't been able to figure out what happened myself."

Desmond came awake with a groan at that moment, his hand twitching. Raymond shot up, pushing ratted hair out of the man's face, eyebrows raised in what seemed to be relief. More tears poured down the butler's face. Desmond seemed to look around, his gaze clouded, before they fell on Layton. He gave a weak smile.

"So you brought us here," he said quietly. "Figures you'd do that, Raymond." His breathing was weak and shallow, and Raymond reached down to clasp a bloodied hand.

"It was the only place I could think of." Raymond's voice had only gotten shakier. "What happened?" Desmond blinked once, twice, his breathing labored. It was obvious he was having a hard time staying awake. The red-eyed man frowned.

"Targent….," he started weakly, "hasn't completely disbanded." Layton scrunched his eyebrows together, while Raymond stilled. It seemed they knew something Layton did not.

"Why would they be after you?" Desmond gave a sharp exhale; his version of a laugh. He winced.

"I… was the most brilliant mind on the Azran, and I didn't join them. Obviously they'd want me dead." Desmond blinked slowly, his eyes becoming half-lidded. "Bronev wouldn't let them kill me. With him in prison…." Desmond scrunched his eyes closed. "I'm tired."

"You must stay awake, Desmond." Raymond was terrified, his entire body shaking. Layton couldn't move his gaze away from Desmond's calm face. "The police are on their way."

"They couldn't save me even if they tried." Layton's breath hitched in his throat. Desmond knew he was dying.

Luke was entering the room. Layton turned towards him, motioning for him to go back into the kitchen. The boy's face pinched in worry, but, surprisingly, did as he was asked. Raymond's lips were pursed as he looked Desmond in the eyes. The red-eyed man gave a small smile.

"Look at it this way, Raymond. You won't have to take care of me anymore." Raymond shook his head.

"No, Desmond, you will not speak like that! You will be fine, and no matter what you say, I will be there to help you." Raymond's voice cracked, his eyebrows scrunching together. Desmond blinked slowly again, his breath shallow. Raymond continued, and his tears increased tenfold. "You're my son, Desmond." The red-eyed man's lips turned up slightly as his eyes closed.

"And you're my father, Raymond." The phrase was barely above a whisper, but the two men in the room could hear it nonetheless.

Layton watched as Desmond's chest went still, and his heart dropped at how Raymond seemed to crumble in on himself, giving a small sob as he clutched Desmond's limp hand in his.

A whirlwind of emotions went off in Layton's mind, before they stopped suddenly. He closed them off, a few tears escaping his eyes as he did so. He watched as Raymond's sobbing grew louder, how Desmond's face still had that ghost of a smile on his lips. The faint sounds of sirens reached Layton's ears, and he found that he couldn't move, his eyes never leaving the two -- father and son -- in front of him, one still, not breathing, his face pale and his lips going blue, and the other sobbing above him.

Layton didn't know what to do.


End file.
